


"It's Just Us Now" - Ian & Mickey

by floralsuitian



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 7x10, Docks Scene, M/M, S7 Head Canon, soft scenes, something I've been thinking about writing for awhile, van head canon, what happens in the van
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralsuitian/pseuds/floralsuitian
Summary: -Just a head canon of the 7x10 docks scene and what happens in the van that night-
Relationships: Gallavich - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 170





	"It's Just Us Now" - Ian & Mickey

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!! This is something that I've been thinking about writing for awhile now. I wanted to write what Ian's inner thoughts were leading up to him going to see Mickey and what happens at the docks and in the van, so here is what came out of it hehe I hope you enjoy this while chapter 5 of my 90s au is being brainstormed : ) (also I recommend listening to the song that I used for this chapter hehe)

**_“They say that love is forever, your forever is all that I need, please stay as long as you need, can’t promise that things won’t be broken, but I swear that I will never leave, please stay forever with me…”_ **

**_~’Scene One: James Dean & Audrey Hepburn’, Sleeping with Sirens~_ **

  
  


He knows he shouldn’t go. Fuck, but he _wants_ to. It was always hard for him to say no to Mickey. He was battling with his thoughts, sitting on the arm of the couch, checking the flip phone over and over again. It nears twelve-thirty in the morning, Fiona has gone to bed, and the house is silent. _I have to see him, I have to. I might never get the chance again._

_But you can’t. You’re better now, you’re taking care of yourself. Mickey will ruin that._

_No, he won’t. He was the only one who gave a shit about your illness, he took care of you._

_Fuck, shut_ UP.

He can’t take it anymore. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, sighs deeply, tosses the phone to the couch cushion. He stands from the arm of the couch, paces the living room for a few moments. The cell phone vibrates again. Ian looks over to it. The small screen lights up. He subconsciously walks over to retrieve it, flips it open. There’s another message from Mickey.

_Still waitin’, you comin or not?_

Fuck, why does he do this to him? Why does he have this affect on him? Ian can’t stand him. He loves him so fucking much, that he cannot stand this man. He loves him so fucking much, he wants to slap him in the face and then kiss away the pain afterwards. 

He loves him. That’s why he has to go. He knows now. He needs Mickey to know that. He needs him to know that he’s still his, whether Trevor’s in the picture or not. Mickey’s always been his, he’s always been Mickey’s. They made that pretty clear when they were teenagers.

But they aren’t teenagers anymore. They’re adults now. Adults with mental health issues and criminal records and past trauma and so much fucking love for one another. 

He loves him. _Fuck,_ he loves him so much. He has to go see him. He has to.

Ian slips on his jacket and boots without thinking about it anymore. If he thinks about it anymore, he’ll back out. He grabs a few cigarettes from Fiona’s pack on the table, takes the lighter too. He shoves his cellphone and the flip phone into his pocket, heads out the door before he changes his mind. 

It’s cold. Not freezing, but cold enough. Ian heads to the South Shore Docks, where Mickey is waiting for him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He doesn’t really wanna think about it. He just hopes it happens. Whatever it is. 

Ian nears the docks, the sound of the train overhead and the water rushing in the river calming his nerves slightly. Why is he nervous? This is _Mickey. His_ Mickey. He saw him earlier today. So why is this time different? It shouldn’t feel different at all. It should feel the same, it should feel like before. Like the first time. 

Ian blows a plume of smoke out through his nose, leaning against a tarp-covered boat, checks the flip phone again. There’s no messages, so he shuts it, sticks it back in his pocket. He takes another drag of the cigarette, hears the sound of boots somewhere in front of him. He takes the cigarette between his fingers, looks up to see Mickey ascending the pier steps. God, even now, under the stars and moon, his long hair, he looks as beautiful as Ian remembers him. He feels his breath hitch in his throat, drops the cigarette from his lips. Every time he sees Mickey, it’s like he’s looking at him for the first time again. 

“Knew you’d come”, Mickey says over the sound of the train still passing overhead. _Oh? Did you really know I’d come? Yes, because I always fucking find a way back to you._

“Knew you’d come”, he repeats, and everything stops. The water rushing, the train overhead, the soft breeze blowing. Ian’s feet are carrying him forward before he can even think straight. He tosses the cigarette away, Mickey mutters a gentle “c’mere”, and Ian’s lips are on his. It’s not gentle, but it’s _them._ It’s all Ian remembers. It’s _Mickey._ These are Mickey’s lips, Mickey’s hands, Mickey’s tongue. He tastes the way Ian remembers, like spearmint toothpaste and cigarettes. He _smells_ the way Ian remembers, like soap and laundry detergent. _Fuck,_ he missed him.

Ian’s sucks Mickey’s bottom lip into his mouth, feels his tongue pressing between his lips again. His fingers are in Ian’s hair, Ian’s hand cupping the back of Mickey’s head gently. It feels so good, all of it. But then he’s pushing him away without a second thought. _Wait, no no no, what are you doing?_

“The fuck?”, Mickey chuckles, looks at him like he’s out of his mind. Then again, maybe he is. 

“What, you think my life hasn’t moved on since you were locked up, Mickey?” _I’m taking care of myself, I’m taking my meds, I’m stable, I’m a fucking EMT, for Christ’s sake._

“No, I just thought that you’d be down for me since the whole reason I did time, was goin’ after the bitch who tried to ruin you”, Mickey bites back. Fuck, he’s right. _I’m an asshole again._

No, Ian shakes his head. No no no….

“I’m not pissing away my life….”

Mickey chuckles again, shakes his head this time. “Stop”, he says, and his mouth is covering Ian’s again. His tongue presses against his, and Ian gives in. He always _fucking_ gives in. It’s _Mickey._

His fingers drag across the exposed skin of Ian’s neck and he leans into the kiss. _Fuck, I missed you,_ he wants to say, but won’t. Not yet anyways. 

He pulls away again. He can’t do this, he can’t, goddamn it. _You can though._

“Fuck!”, Ian shouts, walking a few steps away from Mickey. Mickey scratches his temple with his thumb, confused again. 

“I have my shit together, Mick! And….I have a-a fucking boyfriend!”

_Yeah, he’s standing right in front of you, you dumbass._

Mickey stares at him, scoffs. He can’t be serious.

“A boyfriend?”

Ian shrugs his shoulders, looks away from Mickey. _You can’t even admit it to yourself, what the hell Ian?_

Mickey purses his lips, clicks his tongue. “Mmkay”, is all he says, then holds his hands up as if to say “why is that my problem?”

“Whatcha doin’ here then?”

Ian looks back to him, and _fuck,_ he’s gonna break. He can feel it. He’s gonna fall at his feet again. He’s not strong enough to say no, to walk away from the only man he’s ever loved. The only man who’s ever understood him. Who _gets_ him. 

And he does. He breaks. Mickey’s looking at him with that smug fucking grin on his face like he knew Ian was going to give in. _Fuck you, Mickey. Fuck you and your fucking perfect face._

And that’s all it takes. Ian’s walking quickly towards him again, tugging Mickey’s jacket off. Mickey chuckles as Ian covers his mouth with his own for the third time, cupping his cheek and tugging his own jacket off. He feels Mickey’s hands on his hips, his thumbs rubbing gently over the fabric of his shirt. Ian’s heart is beating so fast, he’s afraid Mickey will hear it. _Who the fuck cares at this point? It only beats like that when I’m around you._

Mickey’s fingers are tugging at his belt quickly, and Ian presses his forehead to Mickey’s. He reaches for Mickey’s belt too, begins to tug at the buckle. 

“Tell me goodbye”, Mickey breathes, Ian wants to punch him in the face. He shoves him backwards into the boat behind him. He’s panting, so is Mickey. _Don’t fucking do this shit now,_ Ian thinks, _please don’t._

“What?”, Mickey teases him. Ian sighs, but reaches behind him to tug his shirt over his head. Mickey nods as if to say “that’s what I thought”, and he turns around as Ian tugs off his belt, tossing it to the rocks with his shirt and their jackets. Mickey’s beginning to tug his own pants down but Ian comes to stand behind him, presses his bare back into Mickey’s clothed one, runs his fingers down his arm and the other one moves his hair off his neck. Ian places an open mouthed kiss to the skin, then breathes him in. _He smells so good, fuck._

“Fuck”, Mickey whispers, and Ian’s hands find Mickey’s zipper, tugs down his pants so his ass is exposed. The cold air blows by them and Mickey shivers. Ian unzips his own pants, tugs them down to his knees. Ian doesn’t wanna do it this way, wants to see his face, watch him come, watch his eyebrows scrunch in that way they do when he’s close. But Ian thinks this is enough for now. He’d rather have him one way than not at all.

He nips at Mickey’s neck again, pulls his hips back enough so he can press into him. 

“Fuck, Ian, come on”, Mickey moans. Ian bites down on his bottom lip as he presses into Mickey, and the world goes silent. His hand comes up to intertwine with Mickey’s, pressing them into the boat. Mickey groans gently as Ian rocks his hips forward, and it feels just like before. Like the first time. Like every other time after that. It feels like _them._

“Mick, _fuck”,_ Ian moans, tugging him back by his beanie to press his lips to his cheek. Mickey’s hand reaches behind them to tug at Ian’s hair as he continues to roll his hips slowly. Mickey’s breathing deep, rough, into his ear, Ian’s panting gently against the skin of his cheek, his fingers sliding down to dig into the skin of his exposed hips. 

“I love you, I missed you”, Ian moans, and Mickey smiles at that, moans into his ear. Ian brings his lips to Mickey’s meeting him in a slow kiss, matching the speed of his hips.

“Fuck, I love you”, Mickey says into his mouth. 

It’s cold still, the late March breeze bringing goosebumps to their skin. Ian presses Mickey into the boat gently, holding him against him, but angling his hips enough so he can hit that spot that makes him come undone. 

“Fuck, right there”, Mickey moans, his ass pressing back into Ian’s hips. Ian’s lips fall open slightly when he feels him gently clench around his cock, and Ian’s coming before he can even get another word out. He moans gently, fucks into Mickey until he’s coming slowly after. Ian waits until Mickey’s finished completely, then presses his lips into his temple, holding him against him still.

“Fuck, you still got it”, Mickey teases, and Ian swats at his arm as he gently pulls out of him. They’re both still trying to catch their breaths, but Ian pulls Mickey to him, pressing his lips against his. Mickey’s hands wrap around his neck, then his arms wrap around his bare back, squeezing at the skin gently. 

“The van….it’s parked over there”, Mickey whispers into his mouth. Ian nods, still kissing him gently. He cups his face, strokes his thumbs over his cheekbones. 

“Wanna make love to you”, Ian says softly, “wanna see your face”.

“Then get your ass in the van”. Mickey pulls away from him, picks up their clothes from the ground. Ian follows him, looks around to make sure no one is watching them. Particularly the cops. 

They reach the van; Mickey tugs the door open, startling Ian from his thoughts. He throws their clothes inside then climbs in, Ian climbing in after him. 

“There’s not much room but--”

“I don’t care, c’mere”, Ian commands, and Mickey’s smiling again. He straddles Ian’s hips when he sits down on the floor of the van, tugs Mickey’s shirt over his head, exposing his chest for the first time all night. Mickey throws the beanie away, cups Ian’s cheeks, kisses him slowly. 

“Your hair is so long”, Ian says against his mouth. Mickey pulls away to press open mouthed kisses to Ian’s chin, neck, jawline. Ian smiles, bites down on his bottom lip.

“Haven’t had a chance to cut it yet, fucking hate it”, Mickey whispers as Ian squeezes his hips gently. 

“Kinda sexy”, Ian teases; Mickey shoves him to his back.

“Fuck you”, Mickey throws back, tugging on Ian’s jeans again. 

“Waitin’ on you”, Ian puts his hands behind his head, lifts his hips to aid Mickey in pulling his jeans and boxers down his legs. Mickey discards his own next, then gestures for Ian to “come here”. Ian sits up, crawls over to the blanket Mickey’s laid down on the floor of the van. Mickey lays on his back, places the lube in arm’s reach, tugs Ian by the arm to have him hover over his naked body. And Mickey stares up at him. At _his_ Ian. The love of his life. He reaches his hand up to card his fingers through Ian’s hair, Ian leans into his touch. Ian’s fingers trail up Mickey’s thigh gently, to the inside of it, to his hip bone.

This is them. It’s always been them.

“I love you”, Ian whispers, “I love you so much”.

Mickey smiles, he knows. He’s always known. He loves him too, so much.

“I love you”.

Ian takes that as his opportunity to reach for the bottle of lube; he sits up on his knees, squeezes some onto his fingers, keeps his eyes on Mickey’s the whole time. Mickey’s looking at him with so much adoration in his eyes, Ian is sure he couldn’t love this man more than he already does. He’s never loved anyone the way he loves Mickey, he’s only ever loved him. 

“Go slow”, Mickey suggests, and Ian nods as if to say “of course”.

“Just want it to last for a bit”.

Ian smiles, hovers over Mickey’s body again. “It’s just us now. Got all the time in the world”, Ian assures him and means it. Mickey lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and he nods at that. _It’s just us now….us…._

Ian spreads Mickey’s legs, presses his fingers against him, and Mickey’s head rolls back into the blanket below him. His fingers grip Ian’s bicep as he curls his fingers slowly against his opening.

“ _Fuuuuck,_ yes”, Mickey moans and Ian bites down on his lip again. He loves this, loves seeing Mickey like this. Loves watching him pant and cry out and wither beneath him. He’s missed this, _fuck,_ he’s missed this so much. 

Mickey feels the same as he remembers. Soft and gentle and warm. He’s gained more muscle in the last few years since they last saw each other. He’s more built up top, his thighs look fucking _amazing_ and Ian noticed his shoulders when he saw him under the bleachers. He looks so good, so beautiful. _Like I remember you…._

Ian removes his fingers from Mickey’s, wipes his hand on a rag he found in a bucket, then situates himself over Mickey’s body. Mickey looks up at him; his eyes are wild, his lips slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed from possibly the cold but also from Ian. 

And Ian lays over him, brushes his long hair out of his face, kisses him slowly before gently nudging the head of his cock against Mickey’s opening. Mickey’s lips fall open against Ian’s, grips the hair at the nape of his neck gently. Ian presses all the way into him, and it feels so _fucking good,_ he might explode right then and there. 

“Ian”, Mickey whispers so gently, petting his fingers through Ian’s hair. 

“Hmmm”, Ian responds, gently rolling his hips, Mickey’s thighs wrapping around Ian’s waist.

“I missed you”, Mickey moans softly, and Ian feels tears in his eyes. He presses his lips against Mickey’s cheek, grips the skin of his thigh, squeezes gently. 

“I’m here now”, Ian breathes, and Mickey chuckles gently, presses his heels into Ian’s lower back as he rolls his hips into Mickey’s again. 

“I’m here”.

It lasts a long time, their sounds and whispers and kisses melding into one song. Ian makes Mickey come untouched, Ian comes inside of him gently as he did when they were outside. Mickey kisses him slow, holding him close as they curl up under the blanket, their naked bodies providing heat for one another. 

Mickey lays his head on Ian’s chest, Ian checks the time on his phone as he drags his fingers through Mickey’s hair. 2am.

“Can you stay?”, Mickey asks, beginning to doze off. Ian tosses his phone to the side again. 

“Course I’ll stay”. _I shouldn’t but I will tonight._

Mickey nuzzles farther into Ian’s chest, afraid he’ll leave. It wouldn’t be the first time….

“You promise?” Mickey’s voice is distant. 

Ian sniffles, kisses Mickey’s forehead gently. 

“Promise. I got you”.

“Love you”, is the last thing Mickey says before he falls asleep, his head on Ian’s chest, Ian staring up at the ceiling of the van wondering how he ended up here, this man on his chest, sated and blissed out. Feeling so loved and absolutely whole. He shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have happened. But he loves Mickey. So much. He always has. Tonight was the ultimate proof of that. 

Ian presses another kiss to Mickey’s forehead, says, “love you more”, before falling asleep with him, legs tangled and hands interlaced. Ian dreams of a life with Mickey as he always has in the past. He hopes for it to happen someday. For real. Where he gets to wake up with him every morning, holding him, kissing him, making love to him, in the safe confines of their own bed, their own home. He wants that, it can’t happen right now, but he hopes it can. When prison cells and mental illnesses aren’t clouding their views. He hopes, and wishes, and prays to have Mickey back in this way again. Not now, but someday. Someday soon. If they love each other, it can happen. Ian knows that. He’s so fucking sure of that. That’s one thing no one can ever take away from them: their love for each other. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense in this fucked up world, in their fucked up lives. They love each other, and that’s all that matters.


End file.
